"Hello! One of the fellows is out near the end of the cliff!" he exclaimed, in surprise. "Look, Tim!"
The other cast a glance over his shoulder at the rugged heights, deep in shadow. He saw the figure of a horseman silhouetted clearly against the blue sky, the animal and its rider having more the appearance of a bronze statue than of life.
"Wonder which one o' 'em it is?" murmured Tim, interestedly.
Dick stared hard and shook his head.
The horseman stood for an instant longer; then they saw him whip quickly about and disappear.
"It's Bob Somers—that's my guess," remarked Dick. "We'll soon know. Come on, Tim."
After a hard struggle, the two finally reached the ridge where the packhorse had last been seen; but the animal was nowhere in sight.
"Isn't this the dickens of a note?" growled Dick, in puzzled tones.
"The idiotic little brute can't be very far off, though." Tim spoke consolingly.
There was silence for several moments while each lad stood up in his stirrups to take a searching look in all directions. Between them and the woods was another rise, and beyond this stretched a broad rolling valley encircled by high wooded hills.